Beyond Redemption
by Ayrton
Summary: Post Gauda Prime: starts with the last scene in S4 and concentrates on how Avon fares after he survived the massacre of GP.
1. Chapter 1

_Scribbler's note: I started this story a long, long time ago and always seem to come back to it, because new ideas keep popping up from time to time. I haven't even written a fragment of what's stored inside my head. The story is based on the characters of Blake's 7. I place them in my own fantasy-world, which is not so different from the world Terry Nation created. So far I've written about 8 chapters and have lots of ideas for further writing. Maybe I can force myself to add chapters regularly now that I've posted them here, but be warned: I'm slow and have lots of other projects going on._

* * *

BEYOND REDEMPTION

It was all like a dream, but it was real. He kept staring at the deep red stain that kept growing on the white floor from underneath his friend. Kept staring at it, but his brain didn't really register. Avon stood over Roj Blake's body and all he could think of was how wonderful it would be to just lie down and sleep now. Sleep, like the still figure at his feet. Totally at rest. He ached for silence inside his mind which had been in turmoil for too long.

He was vaguely aware of the troopers who gathered around him like a pack of hyena's closing in to kill their wounded prey. He lifted the gun in an automatic reaction, aiming at no one in particular and smiled at the thought that he would finally find peace of mind.

An explosion of sound filled his ears and he cried out in pain as the first blows found their target. They had not given him the chance to fire his gun. He had fallen beside Blake on the floor,unable to move or cry out, but still able to hear the salvos that never seemed to cease. The stun-charges struck like knives in his anatomy and when the firing was finally over, he waited. Waited for the blackness he felt nearing, to completely, blessedly engulf him.

"Is he dead?"

That voice shouldn't be here. He would recognise that voice everywhere and it shouldn't be where he thought he was now, floating in oblivion, finally released from all his earthly burdens. He had no strength left to open his eyes but he felt a shadow hovering above him and someone touched his neck.

"Almost ma'am." said the man leaning over him.

The female voice sounded angry when she spoke again.

"Get him to a doctor, you fool!"

Hands pulled him up roughly. His body protested in pain but he was not able to utter a single sound while they carried him away.

Servalan took a moment to look at the scene before her. She knew she didn't have much time. She could hear the fighting outside. Blake's people were getting dangerously close.

"Check if he's alive." she ordered the commander.

Blake looked very dead in that large pool of blood. His chest had been ripped apart by the blast. The commander rushed over to Blake while shots were fired in the corridor outside.

Servalan's personal bodyguard came up behind her.

"We have to go now, ma'am.'"

The commander did a quick check on the body -too quick for Servalan's taste- and reported that Roj Blake was indeed dead. Then she let herself be rushed off by the two men, followed by a dozen troopers who covered their backs.


	2. Chapter 2

_...in which doctors try to save Avon's life while on Gauda Prime a less fortunate doctor tries to work wonders on a hopeless cause._

* * *

Servalan was in a good mood when she made her way to the medical unit. The doctor had informed her that Avon's condition had stabilized and that he was slowly regaining consciousness. She had supervised the first hour of the surgery and had been shocked by the large amount of blood on the pale body. Luckily it turned out that most of the blood had been Blake's. Avon was severely wounded but the doctor became more and more optimistic as he worked on his patient.

While Avon was recovering, Servalan had contacted an old friend on the planet Cendus, where she could safely house her secret guest without anyone knowing about it. They were scheduled to arrive in 5 hours. And to top all that: the President of the Federation had contacted her to congratulate her on the deaths of their greatest adversaries. Of course she hadn't informed him about the fact that one of them had survived the massacre. Apart from her personal staff, there was no one who knew that her doctors had patched up Avon. The captain who had led the raid on the rebel base had planted an unrecognizable corpse at the scene which left no doubt in anybody's mind that it was Kerr Avon's.

Things were looking up for Servalan. With Avon's aid she was almost sure of her ultimate goal: to get herself elected as the new ruler of the Federation. She knew her chances were good. They would even be better if she could provide her supporters with teleport ability, a superior spaceship, built after Avon's instructions and ...Orac. She meant to get her hands on that little magical gadget too.

Avon was dreaming. Or was he? He was in a dark, musty room, hovering above the ground. He saw people with grave faces, voices were subdued, whispering earnestly. He hovered to a dim lit area of the room, where a figure lay motionless on a bed. There were people beside the bed but their faces were a mere blur. Slowly Avon became aware of the pain in his body and the aching distracted him from the scene in his dream-room.

"He's waking up." A woman's voice invaded his brain and with it a throbbing pain filled his skull."I've sent for the Supreme Commander." Another voice, male this time. Avon tried to open his eyes but he didn't have the strength. Besides, he wanted to stay in his dream, where he did not hurt. In his dream, where he felt there was no threat. In his dream, where he felt concern amongst those present, and grief, and...fear. In his dream, where the figure on the bed unexpectedly moved and hell broke loose...

The noise from the medical ward made Servalan quicken her pace. She opened the door to see nurses with startled faces trying to restrain Avon in order to keep him from falling out of bed. He was suffering from violent convulsions. Servalan watched how Avon jerked uncontrollably beneath their hands. IV-tubes were yanked out in the process and a red stain appeared on the bandage across his chest. His eyes were closed in a spasm, body gleaming with perspiration, face drained from all life. Servalan was amazed that his battered body still had so much strength left. The doctor rushed in and tried to perform the usual checks on his jerking patient. Alarms went off and he glanced briefly at one of the monitors. He yelled some orders to his nurses and Servalan's hope died with his last statement." He's going into cardiac..."

"...arrest!!" Doctor Emma Beauvy said and quickly prepared her patient for emergency treatment. She did not have the luxury of standard medical equipment in this improvised hospital at the rebel hide-out, but she knew a heart attack when she saw one. She began to perform heart massage and mouth to mouth resuscitation. She had to be careful not to get too close to the patient's chest wound on the right side of his body, otherwise she would destroy all the work she had done there yesterday.

The man had stopped breathing. The only movement coming from him was made by doctor Beauvy whilst trying to revive him. It didn't look good, she knew that. But then again it had looked even worse when the rebels had brought him in yesterday. She'd done the best she could under the circumstances and had actually succeeded in keeping him alive. She cursed under her teeth. She sure wasn't going to let him die now!

"Come on, Blake! Don't you give up on us now!" She looked in the eyes of Pirol, her assistant. He too had seen his share of casualties of war and had already given up on the rebel leader yesterday. He had made a bet with himself that the man wouldn't make it through the night. He wasn't at all glad that he was about to be right. He tried to get a pulse, but there was nothing. "He's dead, Em." But doctor Beauvy wouldn't stop. She had allowed a small party of the weary rebels inside the little house and she felt their anxious eyes burning in her back. "Take over!" she ordered and turned to the medical cabinet, got out a large syringe and filled it painfully slow with the clear fluid from a small bottle. She dropped the bottle on the floor when she was done and stabbed the needle into the patient's chest like a knife into a murder victim.

Avon's dream had turned sour. He dreamed about Blake. Blake dying. No one could save him. Blake in a pool of blood. His doing. He had pulled the trigger. It was all his doing. He was responsible. He had shot the only friend he ever had in the universe. Killed the only person that he had looked up to, the only one he had ever really trusted, the only one he had ever really cared for.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

..._ in which an old hag is called upon to cure the saviour of Gauda Prime_

* * *

Stewart Kilmonis was not a patient man. Neither did he have great faith in modern medical science. His people discarded the good it had done over the centuries. They only saw the misuse of drugs and medicine by systems such as the Federation. Whole societies could be controlled by drugs. He would never let that happen on his home planet Gauda Prime.

Kilmonis was Blake's second in command. He had come to regard the rebel leader as a friend in the last couple of years and was very worried about him. True, this doctor Beauvy had worked wonders on the fatally injured rebel leader, but Kilmonis saw the insecurity on her face when she sent the rebels away under the pretense that her patient should rest undisturbed. Blake was unconscious; not even an invasion of Andromedans could disturb him right now.

Kilmonis lingered at the door when the others left, his glance demanding the doctor's attention. Emma Beauvy was exhausted and her dark eyes stood weary. Kilmonis did not have to ask the question."He probably will not make it through the night." she said.  
She could have explained about the loss of too much blood or about the infection in the patient's chest wound, not to mention his weakened heart. Her instinct told her that a warrior like Kilmonis could not be bothered by an account of the patient's health. He wanted the facts and the facts were that Emma didn't give much for Blake's chances.  
Kilmonis nodded and left her in peace. She sat down in her favourite chair near the fire place and fell asleep instantly. Pirol was on watch with the patient and he would alert her at the slightest change.

She woke up at a sound only 2 hours later, to find her patient gone and Pirol bound and gagged beside the bed, thumping his tightly roped feet on the floor.  
"They took him!" Pirol panted when she had removed the gag and started to work on the rope around his wrists. "Are they crazy!?"  
"Who took him?" It couldn't have been the Federation. They had no idea of knowing that Blake was still alive and would not dare to venture so deep into the enemy territory.  
"This rebel...Kilmonis!" Pirol tripped over his words when he told her what had happened.  
"He came in here with a crazy old hag. They bound and gagged me...and this hag... she looked Blake over, she... touched him everywhere, his wounds, his blood...she even tasted it!  
"She _tasted_ his blood?"  
Pirol nodded with a bewildered look on his face.  
"Didn't they say anything?"  
"No. Well, yes, the old hag was babbeling all the time."  
"Did she say where they were taking him?"  
"No. The only thing she said that makes sense was: 'He could be the one', and even that doesn't make sense. Does it."

The four men walked slowly, carefully avoiding sudden movements that might disturb the body they were carrying on the stretcher. The old woman led the way and Kilmonis brought up the rear. He felt more than a little uneasy about the whole thing. The old woman seemed to know exactly where they were going, but Kilmonis had no idea where he was. He knew this forest of course. He had played here as a child but never had he gone into the dark, moist green too far. He didn't show it in front of his men, but he was afraid that Blake would die on him right here in the middle of nowhere. It was Blake's old friend Avon who had pulled the trigger but Kilmonis might end up as the one responsible for his death. Taking their leader away from the care of a trained doctor and instead trusting the ramblings of an old recluse would not exactly make him popular amongst the rebel troops if their beloved leader expired here.

Everyone on Gauda Prime knew of the mad woman in the Ga-ii forest, but Kilmonis did not consider her to be crazy. His people believed in the power of nature. They respected it and tried to live in harmony with their environment. The old woman used to say that nature took care of her because she took care of it. It was said that she could hear the plants and trees talk; that she could communicate with animals. She scared people but she didn't scare Kilmonis. He knew of her power, because he had once experienced it. As a boy he had wandered in the woods too far and got bitten by a poisonous snake. She found him when he had already been paralysed up to the waist. She nursed him back to health with her potions. No one survived a bite from the Dar-Inn snake. Young Kilmonis did and now he trusted the woman with his life.  
Here however, deep in the forest where predators gathered attracted by the scent of fresh blood from Blake's wounds, his faith in her judgement was somewhat dampened.

The woman halted at a clearing and pointed at the ancient oak tree that dominated the scene.  
"Lay him as close to the tree as possible." the woman croaked. The four men took their load to the oak, carefully lifted the unconscious man from the stretcher and lowered him on a soft carpet of moss that covered roots and soil.  
Blake looked a mess. His chest wound had begun to bleed again and his face was white as a sheet. He lay very still where they had put him and Kilmonis feared he had not survived the journey.  
"Now we leave." the old woman ordered. She took a hesitating Kilmonis by the arm and he was reluctantly being led away from his dying friend.  
"The forest will protect him." The woman said.  
"What if it doesn't?" Kilmonis asked her in a low voice, so his men wouldn't overhear their conversation.  
"Then he wasn't the one." The woman said simply.  
Kilmonis felt a stab in his chest as she stated that. He knew Blake would probably have died in the care of the doctor too. He'd had to take this last chance. From the very beginning Kilmonis had suspected that Blake could be the one his people told stories about. He fitted the legend that was told of this mysterious figure that would save Gauda Prime from becoming an exploited, dying planet. And if Blake was the one, he would survive this night with nature's help and would come out of it a stronger man with a very powerful ally.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

..._ in which Servalan is very disappointed with her catch._

* * *

Avon had a recurring dream about Blake, lying in the shelter of a big oak tree in a forest amidst weeds, shrubs, animals and insects. His body was covered with a huge amount of small maggot-like worms, feeding on him, devouring him. He was standing over Blake's remains. The body was half consumed by bacteria and vermin and Avon could no longer distinguish between body and soil. To his horror he discovered that Blake was still alive. He was looking at his old friend, despair and agony in his tear-filled eyes and his voice was a mere whisper when he spoke.  
"Please...Avon...kill me...please."  
And in his dream Avon lifted his laser gun that had suddenly appeared in his hands and shot him. As the charge hit its target, Avon felt like his body was being torn apart. He doubled over in agony and stared in shock at his blood-covered hands that held his stomach. At that point he would wake up in a cold sweat and had to face the disappointment that he was still alive and tied to a hospital bed.

The hospital ward was situated in a wing of the prison on Cendus where the Federation mostly locked up deserters and mental cases. The director of this questionable institute was an old friend of Servalan's: psycho-strategist Carnell.  
Carnell loved his temporary work there. He could plot and plan for his future president, while studying prisoners and experimenting on them. When Servalan would become president, she would have to rely on her personal staff. It was Carnell's job to select the chosen few and to foresee future problems with the people she had to deal with.

On Cendus he got to try out new drugs, came up with innovative psychological methods and tried out different kinds of torture all for the good of the Federation and its soon to be president. He would have loved to experiment on Avon, but Servalan wouldn't let him. Carnell found this very interesting. The woman's private life had always been a mystery to him, even when she had allowed him to be her lover for a short while. Even then Carnell had not been able to get through to the real Servalan. He had tried of course with his usual charm and sly wit, but they both knew that they didn't love each other. Carnell tried very hard to make her believe that he was in fact in love with her, but she saw through him. They were adversaries as well as allies and they would always try to outwit each other if there was something to be gained by it.

Carnell's new patient was utterly depressed. He tried to hide that behind his usual facade of cynical remarks, but Carnell knew the truth. When awake, Avon ached in his body but especially in his mind and couldn't concentrate on anything. Carnell noticed that he didn't dare go to sleep and if sleep overwhelmed him -under the influence of drugs- he would wake up screaming at some point in the night because of some terrible nightmare.

He had tried to kill himself twice. Once with pills and this morning he'd slit his wrists with a scalpel he had stolen from an instrument trolley when he was taken to Carnell's office. He was now strapped to the bed, both hands and feet and was not allowed out of the room. The nurses dreaded to be assigned to feed him or change his bandages and after he'd bitten one of them, they had decided to force feed him through an IV-tube. They only changed bandages when he was drugged.

"So, how is he?" Servalan asked when Carnell handed her his report. She had confiscated Carnell's office and had made herself comfortable behind his desk.  
"It's all in there." Carnell said pointing at the papers in front of her. She leaned back in his favourite chair, clearly not interested in the written report.  
"It's been three days since the massacre. The doctor says the wounds are healing fast."  
"He's wounded in here." Carnell said pointing at his chest.  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Servalan asked annoyed. She had finally won her prize, but somehow she didn't enjoy her victory as much as she thought she would.  
"That means that your Kerr Avon wants to die. No matter what you do to him to get what you want. He will not really resist. He wants to die and he'll find a way."

"I won't let him." Servalan said with more anger in her voice than she had intended. She had hunted the man all over the universe for years and it wouldn't do that he just gave up on her. She wanted a defiant Avon. A man who stood up to her, whom she could fight. Not a whimpering coward begging for a merciful death.  
"He's a clever man." Carnell said. "He'll find a way someday." Then a thought came to him. "If you would let me work with him a bit..." This might be his chance to do some experimenting after all.

Servalan regarded him for a moment. She knew it was true. If Avon wanted to die he would find a way very soon, unless she kept him strapped to a bed for the rest of his life.  
"I'll have a talk with him."  
"What will you tell him to brighten his spirits?" Carnell inquired with an amused smile. "That Blake didn't die? That his crew lives happily ever after?"

Servalan gave him an icy look. Carnell didn't know how true this statement was. Her informers on Gauda Prime had reported that Blake had been taken from the base. Alive. Badly wounded, but alive. And furthermore; the body count of Avon's Scorpio crew was two instead of four.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

..._ in which Avon and Servalan strike a very odd deal._

* * *

__

Death is not the worst evil, but rather when we wish to die and cannot.- Sophocles

Avon appeared to be asleep when his visitors entered. His eyes were closed, but Carnell knew he had to be awake.  
Servalan paused at the bed before she spoke. She knew she had to be very careful with her words. One mistake and her prospect of becoming the President of the Federation with the help of this man would be less than zero.

"I see they are taking good care of you, Avon."  
He didn't open his eyes when he spoke.  
"Go away, Servalan." His voice sounded groggy. "I don't want to talk to you."  
"O, but you do." she said smoothly. " I have an offer to make."  
"I know, I know, you want Orac and teleport capability and while we're at it; a Liberator spaceship."  
"How could you guess?"  
"And you will torture me to get it, or promise me a pleasant life with all the wealth I could image...maybe you will make me a minister when you've become president."  
"What a good idea!" she said cheerfully and looked at her psycho-strategist in amusement. Avon didn't seem that depressed to her.  
"Well, it'll have to wait." said Avon opening his eyes. "I have to go."  
"You're not going anywhere, my dear." she said soothingly.  
Avon sighed.  
"Your lackeys are flooding me with fluid." he explained, nodding in the direction of the IV tubes. "I have to go." To emphasize his predicament he tested the padded restraints around his wrist that tied him to the bed.

For a brief moment she looked uneasy but then she understood that this was just Avon's way of controlling a situation he couldn't control. The man was impossible if he didn't want to cooperate. He would go to great lengths to annoy her.  
So would she. Without hesitation she picked up the empty urine bottle beside the bed and pulled back the sheets to expose his bandaged body. Their eyes locked and he dared her to go further. Instantly, he wished he hadn't. He closed his eyes in embarrassment as she pulled down his hospital trousers without further ado. A cold bottle was placed between his legs and when he opened his eyes again her face was very close to his.

"Do I have your attention, then?", she almost whispered.  
They smiled at each other. She satisfied; he wryly.  
"I know more about you than you can possibly dream." she went on teasing him.  
"Would you please get on with it?" He muttered. He might have lost all energy to live, but the fact that he was lying there helplessly with his manhood exposed to his worst enemy, didn't exactly make him feel comfortable. " What is it that you want?"

Her eyes held his when she spoke:  
"Well, I thought that was obvious, dear. I want you. I want your mind, I want your body and I want your soul and you're going to give it all to me."  
"And what do I get in return?" He sneered. "Bread and water and you'll let me out of prison once a year on my birthday?"  
She hesitated a moment before answering.  
"What would you be _willing_ to do for me then?"  
He didn't have to consider his answer.  
"Everything." he said, trying to keep the thrill from his voice. "If you would just let me die.'

She saw that he was serious about this. He was ready to die and she wouldn't let him.  
She gazed searchingly into his eyes.  
"I want you to make love to me." The sudden affection in her voice startled him.  
She didn't say that she wanted him to father the child she craved or that she wanted him to spent the rest of his life with her. She knew that was never to be. She felt his eyes upon her, trying to assess her motives and trying to assess how much hold he could have over this woman if he set his mind to it.  
"You might as well take this last step..", she continued conversationally while her warm hand got hold of his manhood and directed it into the neck of the urine bottle. "It's not that we have any secrets for each other."  
He involuntary gasped at her touch.

Servalan decided to leave him in peace to consider her offer. She rose and made for the door, opening it she turned to the two men and said: "Your death, swift and easy, for a small personal favour."  
"How do I know you will keep your promise?" Avon wanted to know.  
"I'll only need you for a couple of weeks. When I'm done with you you're free to do whatever you want."  
"I would be a fool to believe that."  
They smiled at each other, both knowing it was true.  
"I will cooperate on one condition." Avon finally said.  
"Name it."  
"After you're ...done with me as you so aptly put it...I want you to kill me."

The wish didn't surprise her but it felt strange when he actually said it.  
"I know." she said. "I will."  
"You don't understand." he said and held her eyes when he clarified. "I want _you_ to do it."  
She stared at him blankly and spoke softly then, measuring her words.  
"Of course Avon. If that is your wish."  
And then she left abruptly without waiting for her companion.  
Carnell, brooding over the strange deal that had been struck in his presence, was about to follow her when Avon halted him.  
"I have one more wish."  
"Yes?" The puzzled psycho-strategist turned at the door and had completely forgotten how embarrassed Avon must feel about lying there helplessly exposed to every prying eye.  
"Tuck me in, will you?"


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

..._ in which we learn a bit more about Servalan's motives for keeping a certain rebel alive_

* * *

Avon's body healed quickly. The three broken ribs would give him some trouble over the coming weeks, but all in all he had not suffered irreparable damage. Psycho strategist Carnell was less satisfied with the man's mental condition though. His patient avoided the necessary rest that was vital for his peace of mind. He resisted vehemently when he suspected that the hospital personnel tried to drug him into sleep by slipping something into his IV-drip. He was scared to death of the terrible nightmares that haunted him when sleep did overwhelm him. Soaked in perspiration he would wake up with a scream of panic and subsequently emptied the contents of his stomach on the bed.

It is quite tiresome, not to mention complicated to change the bed and clothing of a man who's secured to it with hands and feet. Therefore Carnell ordered not to give him anymore drugs that could make him drowsy. And thus Avon was awake day and night and became utterly bored in the close confinement of the isolation-cell. They tried to break the dreary routine of the day by forcing him to do physical exercise beside the bed but it was not until he was given a data pad that he was able to take his mind of things. He fed the little gadget all his knowledge about the teleport system.

Carnell would come by several times a day for a chat, but Servalan did not show herself anymore after she had struck the deal with her prize prisoner. That didn't mean that she could fully devote herself to other matters now that he'd agreed to her terms. On the contrary. She would watch him whenever she could on the vidscreen. She had monitors in her office as well as in her private quarters. She could watch her precious prisoner day and night and...she did. To her own amazement she would glance at the monitor repeatedly. She could actually watch him for hours and caught herself doing exactly that when she was in the privacy of her rooms.

Servalan was new to an experience like this. Although her sex life was more than healthy with enough men to pick from ,willing or not, she discovered now for the first time in her life that it was impossible for her to _not _think about the man that was recovering in a hospital-bed in the next wing. Sometimes when she watched him, he seemed to be aware of it. He would look straight at her into the camera and Servalan was quite embarrassed to find her body reacting. On one occasion she actually blushed and felt her lower body contract in pleasant, involuntary spasms. Clearly signs of infatuation for the average person, but Servalan had in fact never had these feelings before and they confused her.

She suddenly realised that it was no longer her utmost goal in life to become the most powerful woman in the Federation. After all she had been there and done that. She had never thought the day would come that she would let her heart prevail above her professional interests. And that was exactly what she was doing now.

She had always been intrigued by this computer expert ever since she found out that he had almost succeeded in ripping off the Federation banking system. Any man who could do that deserved a closer inspection. And this Kerr Avon kept crossing Servalan's path when he teamed up with Blake and thus became her special interest when she was assigned to hunt down the rebel group. She had studied every file about him and when she had met him in person for the first time, she was pleasantly surprised by his appearance. But the man remained an enigma to her. He was clearly not an idealist like Blake and yet he chose to stay with him and fight the Federation instead of settling down on a remote planet with his share of the contents of the Liberator vault. The man surprised her even more when he actually replaced Blake and continued to fight the Federation when the rebel-leader left the group .

And now she'd finally caught him and could do with him as she pleased.

What she really wanted was Avon by her side as an equal; as her adviser, her protector, her lover. Common sense made her settle for the next best thing. She would satisfy her curiosity about this man by inviting him into her bed. Although she could not deny her feelings of lust, Servalan had ulterior motives to have sex with Avon.

Servalan was a realist and she saw her youth fade away. She wanted to secure her bloodline. The full-blooded Alpha Avon would be a more than appropriate match. She'd researched his family history and medical records and he proved an excellent candidate for her purposes. Because there was something else she craved more than anything. It was not the teleport system Servalan wanted from her prisoner. Nor the technology of a ship like the Liberator. No, not even the location of the supercomputer Orac.

Servalan wanted a son.

Not so long ago she had decided that Avon would provide her with one. She would not even have to settle for an impersonal seed-implant. It would be easy to have Avon 'donate' his seed but there was no need for that. No, he would give it to her. Of his own free will. Because she knew he would be susceptible to finally act upon the attraction that had always existed between the two of them. Servalan knew he was as curious about her as she was about him. Both had always known that some day they would end up in bed together...if they didn't kill each other first.


	7. Chapter 7

_Preperations and Revelations___

_.. in which Avon is being prepared for a date by Carnell.___

Servalan had been able to wait for another week before she ordered Carnell to have the prisoner brought to her rooms.

Avon felt strangely excited when he was summoned. He told himself that it was because he finally got a break from the dull daily routine. But if he was truly honest, he was looking forward to seeing this woman who had occupied his thoughts for the greater part of his life as a fugitive.

His depressive moods of the last weeks, no of the last two years, had given way to feelings of relief and relaxation. He was relieved that his fight was finally over and more important; the search for Blake had finally come to an end. A dramatic ending, true, but that didn't change the fact that Avon felt liberated. Liberated of the burdens of responsibility; of expectations, of decisions on life and death. No more conflicts with crew members or allies. No more guilt, no more deaths, no more pain.

He thought about them often. About Vila, Soolin, Dayna, Tarrant,...Callly. He didn't feel guilty about their deaths and the fact that he himself had survived. The only thing that bothered him was the way Blake had met his end and Avon was confronted with that every time sleep claimed him. But now, while getting ready for his meeting with Servalan, there was no sign of depression and Avon started wondering if Carnell had secretly slipped something in his IV-drip to make him feel this way.

The psycho strategic personally saw to it that Avon was properly prepared for the date with his employer. When he entered the isolation cell, two orderlies were in the process of removing the IV needles from Avon's arms. Carnell was carrying a neatly folded bundle of clothes and greeted his patient cheerfully.

"Good, I've caught you in time, then "

"Have you come to give me the last rites?" Avon asked acidly, but Carnell noticed the change in his voice. The man had trouble conjuring up the cynical sting in his voice.

"Think positive, Avon." He said delighted. "There are worse things in the world."

"Decapitating?", Avon said with a crushing look at the orderly who had just removed the last needle with not too much sensitivity.

The man totally ignored the prisoner, grabbed a handful of his clothing and forcefully hauled him into sitting position. His colleague removed the restraints around his ankles and right wrist. When he was done the first orderly yanked once more at his clothing and Avon was pulled up to stand beside his bed. The two men started removing his hospital garments, ripping off the clothing where the remaining handcuff prevented them from undressing their charge.

"I see you have been able to bathe, finally..." Carnell said while reading the doctor's report he'd found on the patient's bed. "Good."

Avon was seething with rage when his warders exchanged a look at the mention of this event. The doctor had indeed given the clear-sign this morning. His wounds had healed sufficiently to enable him to take a bath. Avon had been looking forward to that. He had always been a fastidious man and not being able to wash off the chemical odours that invaded his nostrils, not to mention the faint smell of his own vomit, was a constant annoyance

Nothing could have prepared him for what had happened that morning, though. His two guards had given reign to their frustration about their present dreary job and had taken him to the filthy showers of the prison. They had chained him spread eagled to the conduit-pipes and subsequently bombarded him with the ice cold water from a cleaning hose. The water pressure had been way too high and Avon had been given a thrashing that felt as if each of his prudently healed ribs was being crushed all over again.

The orderlies were glad that the director sent them away, before the prisoner could tell him about the events of this morning. With one last glance at Avon they hurried out of the room. If looks could have killed they would have died horrible deaths right there on the spot. Avon would treasure the impression on their faces for the rest of his life, however short that might be.

Carnell had gone to great lengths to nurse the prisoner back to health. If he found out how expertly the two orderlies in just mere minutes had destroyed all of his work, he would have had more than their heads. Avon figured that he had seen the last of his tormentors. They would run and never know if they had to. They would look over their shoulders the rest of their lives. That knowledge gave Avon all the satisfaction he wanted. No need to actually inform Carnell what had happened.

Carnell carefully put the bundle of clothes on the bed and regarded Avon with curiosity. He had noticed the anxiety of the orderlies and wondered what he had missed. His eyes went over the man, this puzzle he was trying to solve.

Avon's slender body had all the signs of a soldier's life. There were old scars between the new blue-purple coloured bruises. The chest area, where most of the stun charges had hit home, was most affected. His skin a display of various colours.

"When you're done staring, I should like to get dressed. " Avon snarled.

He was getting cold and did not feel comfortable having inquisitive eyes upon his naked body.

"I wish we could shave that off." Carnell said looking at Avon's beard.

Avon stroked his hairy chin and smiled. The beard was one of the few conquests he'd had in these miserable weeks. Nobody dared to come near him to shave it off. Afraid he might try to cut his throat or worse; he might try to cut theirs.

"Well, maybe she likes beards..." Carnell said pensive.

"Can we get on with it?"

Avon had never been comfortable with his own nakedness. There were only few he would expose himself thus to and Carnell and his orderlies were not among them. Moreover he was acutely aware of the fact that the woman he was about to meet might watch them on the vidscreen now. That little piece of knowledge didn't do wonders for his disposition either.

Carnell grabbed the spotlessly white shirt and helped Avon get his right hand in the sleeve. He then did the same with the black waistcoat before he cuffed his right hand to the bed and uncuffed the left hand. Avon watched these proceedings with amusement.

"Are you afraid I'll lift off if you do not anchor me to the ground?"

"We are very careful with those in our care."

Avon knew that of all people Carnell understood best that he would seize every opportunity to achieve his goal; exchanging this mortal life for everlasting peace. Therefore all the precautions and dressing Avon took time.

Carnell had chosen the clothing himself, as if he wanted a good friend to make a lasting impression on the object of his desire. When he was done he admired his patient who looked extremely handsome in the black pants, black shoes, white shirt and black waistcoat. Avon would probably have chosen this outfit himself.

"You look great." Carnell said encouraging as if Avon's confidence needed a mental boost.

"Are you sure you don't want to keep me for yourself?" The old sarcasm was back.

Carnell stepped forward and was suddenly very close. His eyes insolent when he said:

"It wouldn't be your first time with a man."

His manner was challenging as well as inviting.

Avon's features however did not betray surprise nor discomfort about this statement. For Carnell this was a confirmation of his suspicions. He'd always had a theory about the reason why Avon stayed with Blake. He'd studied Avon's psychological records and had come to some interesting theories about this man. When he spoke again he whispered, his lips close to Avon's ear, knowing that the surveillance mikes wouldn't be able to pick that up.

"Why didn't you leave Blake?" he asked in a conspiring tone, eyes fixed on Avon's face, looking for a trace that might confirm his theory.

Avon was not intimidated by the man. In all of his years as a fugitive he had been exposed to things far worse than the possibility of being branded as a sexual degenerate by Federation standards. He had never let anyone into the corners of his mind that mattered and he certainly wasn't going to let that happen now.

"Very simple; _he_ left _me_."

"And you killed him for that."

That statement hit home. Carnell saw the twitch in his face and knew he had touched a snare in this cold hearted man. But Avon captured himself and smiled.

"So I did. If you've done your homework you should know that I tend to end all relationships in that manner. Anna Grant, I killed her remember? Cally, I was responsible for her death too. And Blake is my latest achievement. Hopefully not the last, because I do have something in store for your beloved leader. "

Carnell took a step back and regarded his patient with a searching look. He knew that behind his words of irony, the man was actually telling him the truth as he perceived it. He smiled knowingly and received a similar smile ín return.

Avon had always known that Carnell was an admirable adversary, but now he would have to be extra careful to guard his innermost secrets. The man was intelligent, ruthless and appeared to be a frighteningly accurate judge of character.

He opened the cuff on the bed, turned Avon's arm on his back to secure his wrists behind his back.

"You're all set."

He led Avon to the door where a member of Servalan's personal guard waited for him. While the man knelt down to shackle Avon's ankles Carnell buttoned up Avon's waistcoat.

"How do we feel?"

"We feel like a lamb being led to the slaughter." Avon replied curtly.

He had had enough of Carnell's animated nature. It had somehow spoiled Avon's own cheerful mood.

"Give it all you got."

And with those words the psycho strategic pushed a syringe into Avon's neck. He felt the cold fluid invade his body and looked into the man's eyes for an explanation.

"Aphrodisiac." Carnell simply said. "Enough to wake the dead."

"I would have preferred something to put me to sleep."

"O, come on Avon. Don't be a spoilsport. Let the lady have her fun with you. You might even have some fun yourself. Enjoy, as long as you still can. You'll be dead soon."

He turned Avon over to the guard and slowly they made their way through the corridors to Servalan's rooms, the soft tingling of the chain on the shackles announcing their arrival


	8. Chapter 8

_...in which Servalan and Avon spent a pleasant evening together...or do they?_

* * *

When they met that evening they actually both felt uncomfortable. They had always been at ease with each other in the past. Eventhough they knew that the other could kill them on the spot. But this evening was different. There was no longer any threat and they both knew why Avon was there. He felt a bit like a gigolo at first. Only the part about him being led in shackles to the client who had requested him didn't quite fit his idea about that profession.

Avon didn't really resent what was about to come. The tech had always had a soft spot for the woman and if things had been different between them he would have acted upon his feelings long ago. The nice thing about sleeping with Servalan would actually be the lack of emotional involvement. He'd always lusted after her body and the fact that she was the most powerful woman he'd ever met added to the excitement. It wasn't a sacrifice for him to sleep with her. He was curious, though and strangely excited about the outcome of the evening. Curious about the degree of control she was willing to relinquish. Would she release his shackles? What would he do if she actually gave him this freedom?

They regarded each other silently for a moment. Servalan was duly impressed by his appearance. She sensed Carnell's hand in this and made a mental note to subject her psycho strategic's motives for doing so to further scrutiny.

Avon looked beautiful in the black and white outfit. She loved the beard and the shackles gave him this air of beautiful suffering she always associated with the cold hearted computer tech.

She herself had chosen her primmest outfit. She wouldn't have to seduce him with her appearance. They both knew what was going to happen and Servalan didn't want to insult his intelligence by wearing seductive clothing. Subconsciously she had dressed the way she knew Avon liked his woman; subtle, with care for detail. She had studied his psychological file often enough to know his taste. Anna Grant had been a woman like that. And she had been studying Avon too, before she'd caught him in her net.

Poor, Avon, she thought. Had there ever been someone in his life who had loved him for what he was? Anna Grant was ordered to become his lover by Federation Security in order to spy on him. And Servalan wanted him for his breeding qualities in order to secure her bloodline. What a sad life his was.

"I'm glad you could make it." she said when the guard left and closed the door behind them.

He smiled and she actually saw a mischievous tingle in his eyes, only for a brief moment and then it was gone. Was he actually enjoying himself?

"How can I resist an invitation like this?"

There was a brief silence in which they both regarded the neatly set table, that offered an abundance of good food and wine.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"I have no craving for food, if that is what you were asking."

She smiled at the implication of his words and reached for his waistcoat to lead him into her bedroom. He willingly followed, by now only slightly bothered by the restrictions of his restraints. He felt strangely excited about having to make love in chains. He had never ever been submissive in whatever relationship. But actually, he wasn't bothered about the fact that now, with Servalan, he would not be able to be in charge physically. And whether he wanted to be in charge mentally was another matter entirely.

When they arrived in the next room where a large round bed dominated the interior, she pushed him softly up against the wall and started unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt.

"Your weird psycho doctor just had a difficult time dressing me." Avon stated dryly.

"Well, next time I'll have you sent to me naked." she said and traced a feather light trail with her bloodred fingernail over the bruises of his chest. Avon held his breath only for a brief moment but it hadn't escaped her attention. "But then again, I might not. I think I like undressing you."

She pulled the shirt tails out of his pants and her hands enclosed around his naked middle, pressing her lower body against him. She felt his hardness against her belly and regarded him with great satisfaction.

"'Something tells me that you're enjoying this, too."

Avon would not give her her moment of glory, yet.

"Your doctor gave me something."

"I know. I ordered him to. But that doesn't prevent you from mustering up some enthusiasm yourself."

"You'll never know if it's me reacting or the drug."

"O, Avon, you can't gawd me. I don't care if you enjoy our union. As long as I do."

That last remark was a lie. She wanted Avon to enjoy it and what she wanted most of all was to lure the man out of his shell. Caress and tease him until he could no longer pretend not to feel anything for her.

When she first kissed him, it was experimentally. Tentative. They both kept their eyes open, watching the other's reaction.

"What's the matter Servalan? Afraid I'll bite?"

The woman would never trust anyone. Here she was, having her way with a man chained in shackles and she still expected the worst.

"I wish you would hold your tongue, Avon." and then in a whisper that hardly contained her anticipation: " Do something more interesting with it."

He didn't need a second invitation. When they kissed again, she felt his tongue invade her mouth, tangling with hers in a wild struggle for supremacy. She pulled him into a firm embrace only to release him startled when he tensed up and let go involuntary grunt inside her mouth. He looked into her impatient eyes and saw no compassion there for his pain.

"If you expect me to wait until your ribs have healed you're wrong."

"I always knew you enjoyed inflicting pain." He stated icily. "Why don't you tie me up in one of your interrogation rooms and torture me a little before raping me."

He saw the fury in her eyes at those words. She grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him tot he bed. He almost tripped because he forgot the shackles around his ankles when he was forced to follow her. She gave him a shove and he landed on his back on the soft mattress.

For a moment she stood there towering over him, obviously enjoying the physical superiority she had over him. She loved it. She loved the way the man was completely at her mercy. Kerr Avon was at her mercy. She loved the fact that she could do whatever she wanted with this man who had obstructed her way to fame and fortune on so many occasions. And she would do whatever she pleased, because she had no scruples nor conscience left which might prevent her from doing her worst. She had never cared about anybody's feelings and she certainly wasn't going to start caring now.

She kneeled beside him on the bed and her hands went for the fastenings of his black trousers. He twitched in reflex but when she gave him a push on his ribs he remained subdued. She cared no longer about humouring him. He saw it in her eyes. She was as free to do as she pleased. If she wanted to torture him, she could. If she wanted to fulfil her innermost fantasies with this man, she could. She could drop all pretence with him and just be herself, the bare essential Servalan. There would be no one left to tell the tale.

Soon she would honour his request and kill him.


	9. Chapter 9

_...the last supper._

* * *

Avon was put to work with Federation scientists whom he gave invaluable advice on the development of the much desired teleport system. Officially his colleagues did not know who he was, but most of them had a fair idea about the identity of this prisoner who was brought to their offices shackled and always accompanied by two guards. The first time Avon had met the science team, he saw the truth dawning on their faces. And with it, the realisation that they would probably never leave the prison facility. At least not the way they had entered it. Servalan's drugs doctors would do the necessary to their brains in order to be certain that no one would ever reveal that the notorious Kerr Avon had survived the Gauda Prime massacre.

After work Avon would take his scheduled shower under the eyes of his guards. Then they took him to a small isolation cell where some clean clothes would be laid out for him. He would dress with the guards watching through the small window of the locked door. When he was finished they would order him to lie face down on the floor with his arms on his back. One of the guards put the handcuffs on while the second guard watched the proceedings.

Servalan did not take any chances. She was convinced Avon would end his sorry existence if ever an opportunity presented itself. The guards had been given to understand that it was their job to prevent this from happening. They would pay for any mistakes with their life.

The ritual had become part of Avon's daily routine and he had no reason to believe that today would be any different. He was dragged to his feet after the handcuffs had been double checked and then they marched him off to Servalan's quarters.

Avon was brought to Servalan every evening but when he entered her rooms this time he was surprised to find Carnell there. The psycho strategic greeted him with a bright smile. He sat at the dining table opposite Servalan. They both enjoyed a glass of wine after dinner.

"Good evening, Avon" Servalan produced a radiant smile. "As you see, we've started without you. Surely you don't mind. You usually have no craving for food when you visit my quarters, am I right?"

"I'm glad you've found someone who can appreciate the finer foods." Avon said, subconsciously registering the fact that the guards hadn't left the room.

"Well, we have something to celebrate."

Servalan filled a third glass with red wine. She rose and strode over to her new guest. She placed the glass to his lips and let him drink a sip; taking great satisfaction in the fact that he showed signs of insecurity. His eyes never left hers, but in them he saw nothing that might disclose what she had in store for him tonight.

"What are we celebrating?" he asked.

"Well, your death of course."

"Really?"

"Yes Avon, the time has finally come. I'll be leaving this godforsaken place tonight." She placed the rim of the glass to his lips again but didn't let him drink yet. "How about a farewell toast to the next president of the Federation?"'

"I wish you all the bad luck in the world." Avon said in a sweet, sincere voice.

She smiled away this sting and tilted the glass. He swallowed two large gulps. Then she turned away, put the glass on the table and retrieved a small device from beside her plate. She concealed it behind her back when she turned to face Avon again.

He felt the tension in the air. He felt it in the guards by his side and found it disquieting. Carnell emptied his glass at one draught without keeping his eyes from the scene that developed before him. Avon never for a minute expected Servalan to keep her promise and kill him, but what if these were really his last minutes among the living? Was he really prepared for an eternity of nothingness? He was surprised at the sudden restlessness that came over him.

The guards took hold of him after a short nod from their employer. He didn't resist when their grip on his arms tightened when Servalan came up to him. In her hand he saw a small device pointed in his direction. He recognized it as a tranquillizer gun.

"I will leave you in the care of my good friend Carnell for now."

She stood very close now, her breasts touching his chest through the thin fabric of her silken dress. She enjoyed playing her little games with him. The last few weeks he'd had his fair share of twisted games but Avon understood that she had grown tired of him. The chase was over. She'd conquered him, fulfilled all of her fantasies and now she was ready for new challenges.

"'The good doctor has been wanting to get his hands on you for weeks. One has to humour one's staff now and again. Loyalty is a precious thing and fortunately I'm able to pay the price."

She checked the tranquillizer gun and placed it on his arm. Then she looked up into his eyes again and was satisfied to see him glaring at her.

"Surely you didn't expect me to keep my promise and kill you?" she said. "You are still too valuable for me Avon. Waste not want not has always been my motto. You never know what the future might bring."

Certainly with the thought in mind that the rumours about Blake's survival were very persistent. If the man was in fact still alive, he would certainly organize his rebel groups again. She would not be so foolish as to throw away a very good trump card like Avon. He could come in very handy when it came to bargaining. Imagine Blake's surprise if he learned that his assassin was still alive!

"I know what the future has in store for you, Servalan." Avon's voice was a mere whisper now. " If you let me live, you will die at my hands, I promise you that."

"My dear Avon, you don't seem to understand."

She put the little device on his right arm and shot the tranquillizer fluid through the fabric of his shirt straight into the skin. It was just a tiny sting but he felt the life drain from his body instantly.

"You died at Gauda Prime, don't you remember? And from this moment on you will really seize to exist. Dead men are harmless. They certainely don't wander around killing people."

Avon's legs buckled and only the firm grip of his guards prevented him from collapsing to the floor.

"And as for killing _me,_ my dear Avon, ...you would never do that."

She was sure he had lost consciousness by the time she was ready to disclose the real reason for their little celebration.

"You would not kill the mother of your only child."

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

_._

* * *

_The story will continue in a sequel that will be posted under the name: Ever Present Past_

* * *


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